The Demon's Den
by Alidravana
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester run into the famous Hardy Boy brothers, Frank and Joe Hardy, while investigating two suspicious, unexplained deaths in Bayport. Will they be able to work together to solve the mystery - or will their personalities and personal occupations cause trouble and put them all into danger?
1. Prologue

It was a damp, chilly room. Lined with stark brick walls and rusty broken shelves, it had probably been a storage room at some point, but right now, it was the only place that separated them from the creature that hunted them. The door had been barricaded shut and a pile of salt now lay on the floor, poured strategically across the entrance.

Frank Hardy pressed his hand against the ripped shirt that was serving as a temporary bandage for the stab wound in his thigh. He could feel the blood soaking through the fabric, wet and slippery, coating his palm and dripping down his leg. His other arm cradled his ribs, at least one of which he was pretty sure was broken; if the pain that pierced through his chest every time he took a breath was any indication.

A lone light fixture flickered in the centre of the room, casting an eerie glow on its occupants. Frank glanced over at the tall, shaggy brown haired man, who was rummaging through a tattered duffle bag muttering something about needing more water. There was already a loaded shotgun leaning by the door and Frank had caught a glimpse of a knife hanging from the man's belt.

Groaning, Frank rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes in frustration. He was trapped in a tiny room with a man was wanted by the authorities – Sam Winchester – who was supposedly going to save the two of them from a demon. He was going to kill Joe.


	2. Chapter 1

I'm going to kill Dean, Sam Winchester thought to himself, as he continued to walk through the abandoned factory. His shotgun was at the ready, loaded with salt, resting on his flashlight as he peered into the next corridor.

After the incident in Minnesota with the completely non-supernatural crazies, Dean had been trying to get back on track of hunting down their normal opponents - ghosts, ghouls, and demons. They had already completed two hunts this week, and frankly, Sam thought Dean was pushing it a bit with this most recent hunt.

Dean had come across two unexplained deaths in the Bayport Times. Two teenagers, both 16, had been found a week apart, brain dead in the factory. Currently, their deaths were being tied to drug overdoses, even though when Sam and Dean stopped by the coroner, there had been no traces of drugs in their system at the time of death. A pattern of unexplained deaths normally equalled a supernatural cause, so here Sam was, covering the east side of the factory while Dean searched the west. The factory was huge, and Dean made the executive decision that they should split up to cover more ground.

All of a sudden, Sam could hear raised voices coming from the end of the hallway. They did not sound like the screams of terror when someone came across a spirit, but rather the sounds of a pissed off human male and flesh hitting flesh. Sam gripped his gun tighter and crept down the hall. Not wanting to give away his position, he clicked off his flashlight and carefully peered into the room where the voices were coming from.

There was a dishevelled man tied to a chair in the middle of the room, his feet and hands immobilized by thick rope. If Sam had to guess, he would figure that the man was around Dean's age, a few years older than himself. He had dark brown short hair and was fairly well dressed, wearing slim-fitting beige trousers and a long sleeved collared navy shirt. But he was looking in rough shape. There was blood dripping from a cut on his lip and a darkening mark on his cheek, presumably from the hit Sam had heard in the hall. There were two men surrounding the chair, both armed and questioning the man.

"I don't like having to repeat myself. What are you doing here?" One of the men asked, driving his fist into the prisoner's stomach. "Did someone from the Bloods send you here? Are you a spy, looking at our operations?" He struck the man with another hard punch to his jaw when he didn't get a response.

Sam heard the prisoner grunt in pain, but he kept quiet, not replying to the men's questions. The prisoner's deep brown eyes glared back at his attackers. Sam was rather impressed at the prisoner's disposition, but wasn't sure how to proceed with the situation that had been presented before him. He and Dean tried to keep as much of a low profile as possible, and infringing on what appeared to be a gang issue would definitely bring unwanted attention. Besides, the prisoner might not be entirely innocent either.

As Sam debated on what to do next, a dark skinned man entered the room from a side entrance. "Hey, Marcus," the man said, holding in his hands what looked to be a wallet and a Glock. "I found something interesting," he said with a slow grin, opening the wallet and waving around what looked like to be a badge of some sort. "He's a fed. We have ourselves here an Agent Frank Hardy, FBI."

"A fed?!" Marcus shouted, pulling his gun and placing it in front of the prisoner's nose. "What's to stop me from killing you right now, you pig?"

Frank tensed; he had really hoped that they wouldn't find his badge. When Frank was ambushed, he had tried to hide his wallet and gun, but obviously wasn't successful. He shouldn't have even had the badge on him since he wasn't even on official FBI business. Frank tried to think of something smart to say to convince these thugs that he would be better off alive but he was having trouble concentrating while staring down the barrel of Marcus's gun.

"Put your gun away Marcus and don't be a fool," a female voice spoke with disdain. Sam stifled a sigh of relief. After finding out that the prisoner wasn't a gang member, Sam came to the realization that he should try to help, but he was a little outnumbered and 'Marcus' seemed trigger happy. He tried to adjust his view of the room without causing any noise as he wasn't able to see the woman who just berated Marcus, but couldn't get into a position that allowed him to see the new participant in the conversation.

"If a federal agent is on the premises, then his partner must be as well. Go, find him, and I will continue to interrogate our friend here, Mr. Hardy," the woman ordered. The men quickly scattered, knowing not to disagree with their boss.

Sam quickly slid back into one of the rooms he had passed in the hallway to avoid being caught himself. He waited until he heard the men's footsteps getting quieter and then retook his position at the door. He could now see the woman that had spoken. She appeared to be rather young, with long blonde hair and a lithe figure. She was twirling a knife around, showing her expertise and comfort with the long blade.

Frank watched the women nervously. He hadn't seen her when the men first dumped him in the room and it seemed like she appeared from the shadows in the room. He was also concerned about Joe. He knew that Joe could hold his own, but there were now three armed criminals looking for him. Wetting his lips, he spoke up, "I'm not on FBI business. My partner is back at the office." The statement was technically true.

The woman walked closer to where Frank was sitting. Suddenly, she straddled him, her thighs clamping around his legs, her butt on his lap, and her knife to his throat. "Silence," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair with her free hand. She leaned forward, her mouth ghosting over Frank's ear. "Now, you're a bit older than what I normally prefer, but you are still pretty cute." She whispered, lightly biting his ear.

Frank froze. He had come home for a couple weeks of vacation, but when Joe asked him to look into the death of two local teenagers, he agreed to help out. There had been no indication that the victims had been sexually assaulted.

Frank saw his opportunity when the woman lowered the knife to unzip his jeans. Leaning his head back as far as he could manage while bound to the chair, Frank smashed his head against hers. But the woman didn't move or even react as though Frank had hit her. Based on the ringing Frank now felt in his head, she should have been on the floor.

Instead, the woman wrapped her one hand around Frank's throat, effectively cutting off Frank's air supply. In a harsh voice, she said "I don't like when my playthings fight back," as she drove her knife deep into his upper thigh and pulled it back out, smiling at the blood now dripping down her weapon.

Frank gasped, unable to make any other noise, tears coming to his eyes. The pain from the knife was excruciating and he was extremely close to losing consciousness.

Sam burst through the door, gun drawn and pointed at the woman. When she turned to see who had interrupted her, he quickly shot at her. Sam had seen enough. The woman was definitely psychotic, maybe even supernatural judging by her reaction to the agent's attack. Even if this woman wasn't supernatural, the salt rounds in his gun wouldn't be fatal, they would just hurt like hell. However, when the salt round made contact, a slight grunt was made and then the woman smiled as her eyes flashed black. Shit, a demon then, Sam thought to himself. Reaching into his back pocket, he grabbed a small vial of holy water, twisted off the top and flung it at the demon. Salt wasn't going to be enough to take down a demon.

Frank shook his head. That knock on the head must be causing him to see things. Because there is no way that a wanted criminal had burst into the room and shot at his attacker. Or that the woman seemed impervious to bullets but then went running out of the room screaming when water was thrown on her.

Sam looked over at the FBI agent who appeared to be in shock. He quickly poured a line of salt across the door that the demon ran out of. Hoping that would slow her down, he pulled his knife from his pocket, and slowly walked over to where the prisoner was bound as to try not frighten him any further, and began to cut off the ropes that bound him to the chair. They really had no time to waste, as the demon could return any minute. The agent still did not acknowledge his actions.

Placing his hand on the agent's uninjured leg, Sam tried to get the man's attention. "Agent? We need to bind your injury and get the heck out of here. But I'm going to need your assistance. Do you understand me?"

Frank jumped at the pressure on his leg, but then realized that the man had already untied him and was asking for his assistance. "F-frank," he stuttered, still not really sure what was going on. "Please call me Frank. What the heck just happened?"

Sam ignored Frank's question. This wasn't the time or place to explain what a demon was. "Frank, I'm going to use my shirt to wrap around your thigh and then I'm going to need you to help hold it in place, okay?" He had already tossed his brown hooded jacket on the floor and after receiving Frank's nod, began unbuttoning his collared shirt.

Frank couldn't help but to sneak glances at his rescuer as he stripped down. He had seen pictures of Sam Winchester and his brother Dean Winchester, but none of them did Sam's body any real justice. The washboard abs, the broad shoulders, and all those muscles were almost making Frank forget that he just had a knife stabbed into his thigh. Almost.

Frank gasped out loud as Sam began to wind his t-shirt around Frank's injury, the movement sending sharp pains down his leg. "Sorry," said Sam, feeling bad that he was causing Frank more pain, but he had to bind the wound tightly. Frank just nodded and waited for Sam to be done.

"Okay, I think that pretty much does it," Sam said, tying one last knot on the temporary bandage. He slid his shirt and jacket back on, and stood up. "Now, I think we should be getting out of here, in case that demon or the other men decide to come back." He looked carefully at Frank, determining the best way to get him out of the room. Noticing that Frank's badge and gun were still on the table, he grabbed them and passed them over to Frank. "I think if you just lean on me, we should be able to make our way back towards the exit."

Frank was surprised when Sam passed him his badge and gun. He definitely wasn't acting like a wanted man. But then again, this wasn't a normal situation. Frank leaned forward and tucked his gun into the back waistband of his pants and slid his badge back into his pocket. He propped himself up on the chair, wincing at the pain shooting through his leg. The sooner he got to a hospital, the better.

Blushing slightly, Frank wrapped his arm around Sam's waist, as Sam was too tall for him to lean on his shoulder. The two men slowly exited the room and started to make their way back to the entrance where Sam had come in earlier. With all the commotion, Frank was embarrassed to realize that he completely forgot about Joe. "Sam, do you have a cell that I can borrow? I have to try to get a hold of Joe."

Sam stopped abruptly. He shouldn't have been surprised that Frank knew his name. But it still startled him. "Yeah, sure. Is Joe your partner?" He asked, passing over his burner phone. It would be rather simple to evade this FBI agent, but if there were two of them, it would make it a little more difficult. Especially since he didn't know where Dean was.

"No," Frank said absent-mindedly as he started punching in Joe's number. He sighed when he saw that he had no reception. "I was telling that woman the truth. My partner is back at the office. Joe's my brother. I'm assuming your brother, Dean, is here as well?" The FBI reports said the two were rarely seen without the other, with the exception when Sam was attending college.

Sam nodded. It was slightly unnerving that Frank knew so much about him and was a federal agent, yet hadn't arrested him yet or even mentioned the possibility. All of a sudden, Sam heard footsteps coming down the hall. Placing a hand over Frank's mouth, he pulled him into a nearby room and quietly shut the door behind them. Sam motioned for Frank to remain silent and removed his hand. Pulling a container of salt from his duffle bag, Sam quickly poured another line of salt across the entrance.

"Well, did you find the other agent?" Frank could hear the woman ask out in the hallway. The response must have been in the negative, because the woman then screeched "Well keep looking then!" He could then hear footsteps run off into the distance again. Frank looked at Sam and saw the same relief on his face, both of their brothers were still safe then.

Sam waited a few more minutes before saying anything. "I think we should hang out here until Dean finds us. With your injured leg, we can't move very quickly and with the salt line, we should be safe for a while."

Frank had no idea what he meant by being safe with a line of salt across the door, but he agreed that he wasn't of much use right now. "How about I stay here and you go look for Joe and Dean? I'm a little worried about what might happen if Joe finds Dean first, he's a bit of a hothead."

Sam shook his head. "I'm not leaving you alone to deal with these guys, Frank. And besides, I'm sure that Dean can talk your brother down if it comes to that."

Frank nodded, slightly relieved. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be left alone to deal with that strange woman again either. Limping over to the back of the room, he slid down the wall into a sitting position to wait.

xxxxx

Dean was frustrated. He had completed searching the west end of the factory and hadn't found anything. Maybe Sam had been right and this was a wild goose chase. Not like he was going to tell Sam that though. Dean started to head back to the entrance of the factory, distracted by thoughts of grabbing a burger at that tavern they had seen on their way down Bayport Avenue. All of a sudden, Dean came face to face with another man who was also wielding a gun. Dean froze, keeping his shotgun steady and pointed at the newcomer.

Joe was surprised to come across Dean Winchester, a man whose face he had recently seen on some of his brother's paperwork. "Drop your weapon," Joe said firmly. He wasn't going to let this criminal get away.

"How about you drop yours?" Dean retorted, taking a closer look at the man. He had blonde hair and looked a bit younger than himself. His gun and attitude screamed cop, but he wasn't really dressed like one. "Who are you?"

Joe rolled his eyes; of course this wouldn't be easy. "Joe Hardy, Private Investigator. And you are Dean Winchester, wanted murderer."

"Accused murderer, not proven," Dean replied with his trademark smirk. "How about we just forget that we even saw each other?" He started to look for another escape option when the light from his and Joe's flashlights began to flicker before turning completely off, pitching the hallway into complete darkness. Damn, he had been right about a supernatural cause. "Look, I know you don't trust me, but now is a really good idea to listen."

Joe snorted and started say something in retort but stopped in mid-sentence. A woman had appeared at the end of the hallway, seemingly out of nowhere. She was an attractive woman, but Joe quickly realized that she was slowly walking towards them, like she didn't have a care in the world, with a bloody knife in her hand. "What the hell?" He muttered, tightening his grip on his gun.

"Yeah, that won't do shit," Dean said, emerging from the shadows next to Joe. "My guess is she's a spirit; you're going to need this." And Dean offered Joe another gun from his duffle bag, already pre-loaded with salt rounds.

Joe jumped. He hadn't realized that Dean had crept that close to him. He took the offered gun hesitantly, not sure what he was doing. Was he really going to listen to this criminal?

Dean could sense that Joe was confused, but he had a job to do. Cocking the gun, he shot a round at the spirit's shoulder. Upon contact, she slightly stepped back, but continued walking towards them with no sound of pain. Not a spirit then, demon perhaps? "Joe, I need you to shoot a couple rounds at her while I put down a salt line. Then we need to run, okay?"

Joe nodded. He obviously was out of his element. The woman barely flinched when the bullet made contact. Aiming for a non-lethal body part, he fired the shotgun a few times, while Dean hurriedly poured salt across the hallway. The woman continued to approach, only stopping at the end of the salt line, seemingly unable to cross. Her eyes flashing black and with a smirk, she said "Don't think this is going to keep me back for long boys." Holding up the knife, she added, "Your blood will soon join the agent's on my blade."

Angered, Joe started to lunge at the woman, only to be stopped by Dean grabbing his arms. "Joe, you can't hurt her," Dean said, struggling to hold Joe back from the demon and from breaking the fragile salt line.

"She's talking about my brother!" Joe grunted, trying to get out of Dean's solid grasp.

"Think about it Joe," Dean said, dragging Joe away from the demon. "We just shot at this creature and it didn't hurt her at all. You can't hurt it." He loosened his grip on Joe, hoping that what he was saying was getting through to the man. Dean understood Joe's reaction, he likely would have had a similar one if it had been Sam's name she uttered. "I'm sure your brother is fine," Dean continued to say, letting go of Joe. "We'll find him, and Sam and come up with a plan."

Joe just nodded his head and followed Dean out of the corridor, his focus now on finding Frank as soon as possible.


End file.
